The Life of a Jewish Stripper
An excerpt from my book
Thinking back to when I was a stripper actually started to depress me. I missed it terribly, I still miss it to this day. It isn’t just the instant gratification of cash; it isn’t being irresponsible and drinking and drugging. It’s feeling sexy and comfortable in your own skin. It’s the way the men look at you, the fantasy you provide. It’s that gratification of seeing yourself in someone else’s eyes. It’s putting on the heels that make you feel tall, especially if you’re 5’4 like me. It’s putting on the outfits and the make-up. It’s like playing dress up and in my opinion, you’re almost like an actress getting ready for her part. It’s being able to do things on the pole that make you feel like you can fly and you’re weightless though you’re hanging on with every ounce of energy you have.
Or perhaps it is a need for a man’s approval that drives many women to make that choice in life. Perhaps it’s the attention I didn’t get from daddy that I longed for all my life. Perhaps it has nothing to do with power over men and just the opposite. Maybe because our society is patriarchal when women are so young, they need that approval. After all, I wanted to become what I thought a man wanted that drove me to take off my clothes in front of people and society would shame me to think that is a bad thing. My ex-husband was addicted to pornography. He was always playing porn and showing me magazines like Penthouse and Hustler and pointing out what he found pleasing in a woman. Though I suspect he did those things to show he isn’t gay or bi-sexual. He imitated gay men so well and I hate to repeat myself but he seemed fascinated with transgender individuals.
